On The Last Night of The Year
by Graveygraves
Summary: Ashley makes a resolution, but needs help to see it through. Can David Rossi help her face her demon? Beta'd - but views always appreciated. Rated given to be on the safe side due to occassional language.
1. New Year's Eve

**On The Last Night of The Year**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**When I signed up for the New Year Challenge on Chit Chat on Author's Corner this was one of two ideas I had. As I couldn't pick both characters on the challenge I decided to keep this one to write.**

**. . .**

The dark room reflected her mood. The soft glow from the small fake Christmas tree in the corner was the only illumination. As she sat watching the lights softly twinkle Ashley's mind was a million miles away from the joys of the festive season.

_Instead she was home for the first time in just over nine years. She was with her mother and father, piles of presents arranged under the tree, smiles as they tried to guess what they were about to receive. She may have been in her late teens, but Christmas was still a fun-filled family occasion. _

_The look on her parent's faces as they exchanged gifts, the smiles, the tender way he traced her cheek. Ashley remember dreaming of one day having a man that love her as much as her father loved her mother, instead of the jerks she met. Her life was perfect. She could never have imagined what the following year held for the Beauchamp family. _

Hugging her knees up to her chest, she sat on the floor, back against the couch, the coffee table in front of her was covered in sealed white envelopes. Each identical, right down to the meticulous printed writing on the front, made it obvious they were all from the same person. The one person she honestly, hand on heart, hated.

Her eyes returning to the once neatly bundled pile, now sprawled across the surface. Then she glanced down at the flimsy folded sheet of card in her hands. Once more her eyes watered, but the tears were due not sadness, no, this was pure unadulterated anger.

Anger bred out of the shame that her father had finally tricked her into opening one of his correspondences. The scarlet envelope on the floor beside her, the messy scrawl such a direct opposite of his usual precision, so much so she was certain he had asked someone else to write it for him. It was a cheap trick, effective though, she thought.

Opening the offending Christmas card once more, through blurred eyes she read the message held within again.

_Cherub,_

_I have long come to realise that your heart is not open to forgiving your Pa. If I haven't said sorry enough times already then I doubt I will be able to in the weeks that I have left. I am dying my Sweetness, my life sentence is to come to an abrupt end and I have only one wish. Please visit before it is too late._

_Forever yours,_

_Pa x x_

As the fury built in her once more she began to tear the innocent looking item into pieces. _The bastard, how dare he invade her life like this? _She had deliberately built up her defences; he should never have been able to get through. Life was just fine without his interference. The life she had worked so hard to make for herself after he had ripped her normality to shreds.

In the seven years since he had been arrested, Charles Beauchamp, had periodically written to Ashley. She had to admit that it had slowed since she had become a full fledged FBI agent - guess good news did travel fast! That should have pissed him off she thought with some satisfaction. Part of her wished she had twisted the dagger a little further by finding a way to let him know she had worked with Aaron Hotchner and David Rossi - the very men responsible for his incarceration.

Ashley had successfully recognised each and every one of those letters up until now. The prison issue stationary, the specific handwriting; all a dead give away to the contents of the envelope. Up until today!

Today Ashley had returned from wrapping up a long term case with the 'Domestic Trafficking Task Force'. It had been one of their most successful to date, and the only case Ashley had worked on since her transfer to Andi Swann's unit. Ashley hadn't minded not being 'home' for Christmas; in fact she liked the distraction of work. Christmas alone was no fun.

The team had been out to celebrate together, hitting a bar straight after work and she had come home feeling a little light headed.

However tradition, and the additional alcohol, had forced her to put up the tree with a few decorations and open the cards and packages that her neighbours had taken in. Christmas may have been six days ago, but Ashley needed to comply with the expectation of living with normality. Christmas had to come before the New Year and she had been aware she was rapidly running out of time.

All had been going well, a card and cookies from Penelope and Kevin, and then perfume from Emily, Spence had sent her a card with a long letter in it. Glass of wine in hand, she had got to the last two, a small package and a single card. First Ashley had pitched for the card. Not recognising the handwriting she had opened it out of interest.

That was where she hit pause; everything from that point onwards had disappeared as she tried to understand how he had managed to knock her sideways from behind bars.

Screwing the remains of the card up before throwing them blindly away from her, Ashley watched the sparkly confetti falling peacefully to the ground. Her hands dropped lifelessly on the carpet either side of her. _What did she do now?_

She wanted answers; she had long wanted answers but had never been ready to sacrifice her soul to satisfy her curiosity. But she no longer had the time to decide when she would face him. It was now or never, if his card was to be believed.

Glancing at the clock, watching the minute hand crawl towards midnight, Ashley did something she had never done in her near twenty-eight years of life. She made a New Year's resolution. This year she would ask her father the question that burnt her most: Why?

. . .

All you have to do is know where you're going. The answers will come to you of their own accord.  
><strong>Earl Nightingale, Author<strong>


	2. Early Morning Call

**On The Last Night of The Year**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**. . .**

Waking early the next morning, Ashley had been unable to clear her thoughts from the night before. Having had such a restless night, her sleeping moments filled with dreams - correction nightmares, -of what it would be like to meet her father after all these years.

Mooching around the kitchen, Ashley made a coffee and considered the possibility of eating something. The churning in her stomach made her realise that was possibly a bad idea, though this year it wasn't alcohol causing her the problem.

Sitting alone in the lounge, she sipped slowly from the hot mug. Contemplating the promise she had made herself last night, the one that had caused her such a troubled night, the warming liquid doing little to calm her frayed nerves.

Last night she had been adamant that she knew what she wanted, but in the cold light of day, it was a different matter. Ashley still wanted answers, but she did know if she was ready for them.

Steadying herself, she went to stand by the window. Looking out onto the bleak morning, she considered her options once more. She could ignore the promise she had made to herself and do nothing, as she had done for the last seven years. Except sticking her head in the sand was not longer viable. She could pluck up the courage to face him, but even now, safe and secure, Ashley knew she was not strong enough to cross the prison threshold alone. So that left her with one possibility . . .

. . . to find someone to go with her.

Placing the coffee mug down on the first available surface, Ashley looked around frantically for her car keys. Grabbing them off the counter with one hand and her phone in the other, she shot out her apartment.

. . .

The soft crunch of the gravel under her feet as she walked up the drive towards the grand looking house was becoming increasingly annoying. Initially parking at the end of the drive and having a calming walk had seemed a good idea. Ashley realised in her hurry she had gone off half-cocked. Now she wanted the time to collect her thoughts before presenting her case to the one man who may be able to help her.

Wrapping her arms around her lithe body as she trudged along the path, Ashley tried to ward off the cold. In her haste she had left without a decent sweater, let alone a coat, scarf and everything else a sensible person would have put on. The early morning air was as frozen as the ground she trod.

Stepping up to the impressive wooden door, she reached out a shivering hand to bang the hard iron knocker; the cold metal appearing warm in her freezing fingers. Allowing three loud bangs, she stood back and waited.

Her patience growing thin as her sullen mood increased, she motioned to knock again. Only this time she was interrupted by a grumpy looking David Rossi dressed in striped pajamas and a dark blue robe.

Standing in the imposing doorway, one eyebrow raised, David took in the sight before him. Ashley's long blonde hair was pulled sharply back into a ponytail at the nape of her neck, her grey sweatpants and white long sleeved t-shirt, nowhere near warm enough for the morning.

"Ashley, this had better be good; I wasn't planning on being up at 7am…hell, I wasn't planning on being up all morning," the slight smirk on his face betraying the fact that he wasn't as annoyed as his tone pretended he was.

Stepping aside to allow Ashley in, a shiver ran down his spin as he realised how cold the day was. Leading her through to the kitchen he flicked on the coffee machine, busying himself with preparing a pot of coffee. Glancing sideways at his visitor, he took in the slightly blue tinge to her lips. Shaking his head as he leant onto the counter that separated them, he made no attempt at hiding the fact he was staring.

Ashley felt uncomfortable under the profiler's gaze. Shifting slightly her mouth dried as she tried to form the words she had been practicing in her head all the way up the driveway.

Dave smirked again. "I am going to get dressed; by the time I get back down here I expect two mugs of coffee and hot buttered toast."

Ashley stared open mouthed.

"That's the cost of waking me up when I have had less than five hours sleep. Take it or leave it babe," he winked.

Ashley nodded blankly, stepping behind the counter top as he left the kitchen. Running her fingers under a tap in the aim to warm them enough to regain some feeling, she sighed deeply. Glancing around the kitchen she made herself a silent promise that next year's resolution would be to not be so impulsive. As the numbness began to wear off in her fingers, she cursed her inability to think things through before she reacted.

Looking up she realised Dave was walking back in, jeans and a dark red shirt replacing his PJs. Throwing a sweatshirt her way, he grumbled: "I don't smell toast."

"My fingers were too cold, I was afraid I would drop something," Ashley made a feeble excuse as she looked blankly at the item of clothing he had so ungraciously passed to her.

"Well put that on, it may help warm you through. What were you trying to do coming out dressed like that – catch your death?"

Ashley complied, without saying another word, before turning to pour them both a mug of coffee from the freshly brewed pot. Passing it to her host she returned to look around for bread and a knife to start making toast.

Dave observed her for a moment or two as she searched his kitchen for the equipment she needed. Watching someone complete such a menial task allowed him chance to judge her mood and frame of mind. Plus he hoped the action would warm her obviously frozen body.

As Ashley attempted to cut the bread, Dave stood beside her.

"Here let me," he said taking the knife from her hand. "Sit down and have your coffee."

Ashley did as she was told, tucking her hands inside the sleeves of FBI issue sweat top, before hugging her coffee mug to her.

"So," Dave glanced up at her, catching her eye, "I assume you are not here to wish me a Happy New Year. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Ashley's lip trembled, all strength draining as she melted into the mug of steaming liquid.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think."

"Well that's something new, you admitting you didn't think!"

The hurt his comment caused, evident in her tired eyes, made Dave regret his abrupt humour.

"Sorry, that was uncalled for," he added.

"No it wasn't; it was honest, and I shouldn't have just turned up on your doorstep like that."

"Look Ash, I am glad that you feel you can turn to me, no matter what it is. I'm flattered, just lacking a little sleep, and by the looks of it I'm not the only one. Bad night?"

Ashley shook her head, sipping her coffee to avoid his eyes as he brought the plate of hot buttered toast over to the granite counter. Sitting beside her, he took a slice.

"Time for you to spill; Ashley, what brings you to my door on a cold and frosty morning?"


	3. The Chat

**On The Last Night of The Year**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**. . .**

The deep steadying breath Ashley took was surprisingly loud in the silence of the room. As she inhaled her mind rushed through the conversation she had rehearsed. Sat opposite the older profiler, his dark eyes boring into her, Ashley felt like a child asking for help to get her out of trouble once more.

"I need your help," she muttered, biting into a hastily grabbed slice of toast. She hadn't really wanted it, but the action bought her time.

"I had gathered that much, the question is what with?" Dave looked sympathetically at the young recruit.

"My Father is dying, and he has requested that I visit before he dies," the words tumbled out.

"Oh," Dave instinctively reached a hand over to cover hers, giving a light squeeze, "How do you feel about that?"

Another huge sigh echoed around the room, "Honestly, I don't know. I'm angry, confused, jealous, intrigued, lost and scared."

Dave had to smile at her honesty.

"Well that gives us plenty to start with. Are you going to see him?"

"Yes," Ashley shot back, without giving the answer a thought.

"That was pretty definite," dave smiled reassuringly.

"I need to see him, I want answers. I just assumed I had longer," her eyes dropped back to the dregs in the bottom of her coffee mug, swirling it slowly as she became lost in her thoughts.

Taking the hint, Dave rose and brought the coffee pot over, topping his up at the same time as hers. Placing the pot on the table between them he helped himself to another slice of toast.

"If you had had another ten years, do you think you would have gone any sooner; or still be sitting here at the last minute?" Dave asked before taking a warming bite of his breakfast.

Ashley thought about the comment. Deep down she knew Dave was right - she would have procrastinated half her life - had it been possible. She had needed fate to force her hand, and now it had and she needed to take the opportunity. The decision to go was the easy part of the equation; the how she was going to deal with it when she got there was the hard part.

"I guess you are right."

"Of course I am," he said smugly. "But we are getting off track here. You wanted my help, and I guess it wasn't just as a sounding board. So where do I come into all of this?"

"I can't face him alone!" Ashley said starkly, her eyes leveled fully with his.

Dave sat back, resting against the cool bar at the back of the high stool, folding his arms across his chest, his eyes narrowed.

"Sorry, I thought . . ." Ashley's voiced tailed off as she picked at the remains of her toast.

"Hey Kid, I never said no."

"You didn't say yes either."

"I just needed to process it. It's a big ask, and I don't want to let you down," Dave said sincerely, lifting his coffee and drinking. "Facing your father doesn't bother me; done it before, I'll do it again. It's supporting you, that's what concerns me. You really think I'm the right person?"

Ashley nodded solemnly.

Sighing out a rush of air, Dave leant forward once more, cradling his coffee mug in his hands.

"I make no promises Ash other than I'm here," Dave paused to regain her full attention. "I don't have a magic wand and I can't fix the unfixable. But I'm here."

The two sat in silence for a while finishing their drinks as they contemplated all that had just passed. The only audible sound was the ticking of the clock as the seconds became minutes. There was no awkwardness between them, just understanding.

"So," Dave said, as he placed his mug down, "let's start at the beginning. How'd you find out?"

Ashley looked up, her mug returned firmly to the counter top, anger clouding her crystal blue eyes.

"The bastard put that little tip-bit in his Christmas card," she spat.

"Nothing like a little added cheer to the Yuletide," Dave added grimly.

"Yeah," Ashley continued, her voice tinged with the anger that he had seen in her eyes. "The best part being that I would never have opened the card if I had realised it was him. He's never sent me a card before, and the handwriting wasn't his. So I opened it. He fooled me."

"Would you have preferred not to know?"

Ashley shook her head, the inner turmoil of conflicting emotions beginning all over again. The washing machine effect in her stomach churning up the little contents it held.

"Shouldn't the authorities or prison or someone have let me know, not him?"

"Maybe," Dave replied with a shrug. "You think it's genuine? It would be easy enough to check. Think that is the best place to start. Though, even if he isn't dying, maybe it is time to face him. One way or another, it's time to move on, Ash."

"Yes," she whispered, nodding slowly as she accepted her immediate future. "But you'll come with me. I need you there. He can't do anything to me if you're there."

The fear in her eyes, that had moments before flared with anger, startled Dave. He began to understand how unstable her emotions were.

"Sure," he reassured. "But he can't do anything to you anyway. You will be safe."

Ashley shook her head franticly.

"He can," she hissed, "he can get back inside my head. He can lure me in, make me believe him again, and I need you to stop him from doing that!"

Her pleading expression cemented her words.

Dave nodded, collecting up the mugs and plate and taking them to the dishwasher. He needed a breather. Stacking the items inside and clearing down the counter top, Dave inwardly prayed that he could help Ashley.

He had sworn to himself that he would protect this girl from the moment he had met her. Remembering the wide-eyed teenager the day they bust the door in and seeing the trembling woman in his kitchen, he realised her journey over the past few years had been long and hard. However, now her destination was in view, he just hoped he could help her reach it.


	4. Meeting

**On The Last Night of The Year**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**This chapter is set some weeks later.**

**. . .**

Ashley sat huddled in the passenger seat of Dave's car, wrapping her long slim arms protectively around the trunk of her body. Resting her head against the window she stared ahead. Even an untrained eye could tell that, though present in body, she certainly wasn't in mind.

Dave shot a glance over, catching the glazed appearance that dulled her normally brilliant blue eyes. He had a bad feeling about today. Hell, he'd had a bad feeling about this moment from the time they had first met. Somehow, in the pit of his stomach, he had known he would cross paths Ashley for as long as he lived, and he also knew that they would rarely be happy moments. They were destined to find strength in each other at the most pressured of times.

Dave drove silently, allowing her uninterrupted thoughts to processes themselves.

Pulling up outside the intimidating building, Dave switched off the car and turned to face Ashley.

Ashley never moved, the only sign of life being a single blink of her eyes.

Dave waited, not wanting to push her. He was here to support, not congeal or pressurise. Eventually he put his hand slowly on her knee, and gently squeezed.

"You okay?"

Ashley nodded, unwinding her arms from her body as she straightened herself. Reaching for the door release, she went to leave.

Dave stopped her with a firm hand on her slender shoulder.

Turning back to face him, her face stricken with worry, as her eyes questioned his action.

"Sweetheart, I'm right there with you every step, but I need to be clear on what you want me to do. We've talked about this, but already you have changed. Are you sure on the role you want me to take?"

Ashley nodded. "Please Dave, step in whenever you feel it's right. I need impartial eyes in there."

Dave had to smile, he wasn't sure he classed as impartial when it came to Charles Beauchamp, convicted killer of twenty–five women, though many believed the count was closer to forty. Hotch had practically had to hold him back the day they bust the door down and dragged his sorry ass out.

Throughout his career faces had haunted him, but usually they belonged to the children of the victims. Never had he seen so harshly the impact on the family of the UnSub. Watching as they tore a family apart, the sins of the father paid out on his relatives.

No, David Rossi was not impartial, but he would with hold his end of the bargain. He would protect her. She would not be his final victim.

. . .

Ushered in to the grey room, Ashley took a seat at the steel table that was secured to the floor. Once again her arms weaved around her body, creating a physical barrier. Dave stood by the door, leaning nonchalantly against the wall. His hands stuffed into his jeans pockets, if only to avoid the possibility of hitting the bastard the moment he walked into the room.

The scrap of a key in a lock in the door opposite them signalled the arrival of the man they had come to see. As the door swung open, a frail looking man was wheeled into the room, his face partially covered by a clear plastic mask attached to a tank of oxygen on the back. His long greying hair had been secured back onto a ponytail that mirrored that of his blonde daughter. The piercing eyes the same crystal blue, dulled like her, but for a different reason.

The guard secured the brakes on the chair once he was level with the table. Looking directly at Rossi, who nodded his agreement, the guard turned to leave them alone, as they had requested.

Charles Beauchamp lifted his head a little, a gnarled hand reached for the mask. Pawing it aside his raspy voice broke the tense silence.

"What's he doing here?" he spat, his eye rising to glare directly at Rossi.

Rossi smiled, happy to know his presence had got under the skin of the pathetic looking individual. Stepping forward towards the table, Dave took the seat next to Ashley.

"Now, now, Charles, have you lost what sorry excuse you had for manners in the last nine years?"

Beauchamp's body may be failing him, but his mind wasn't. Dave could see the desire to cause damage, he had no doubt that should the man be fit and well, then right now it would be more than a verbal sparring.

"You son of a bitch, Rossi, you have no right to be here," the dying man gasped.

"Yes he does," Ashley's firmly spoken words surprised them both as they faced her. "I wanted him here."

Beauchamp's eyes returned to the smug looking man opposite him. David just winked and grinned, maybe this was going to be more fun than he originally thought.

"You wanted to see me," Ashley spoke flatly, the strain of containing the jumble of emotions she with held tinting the edge of her voice, as she placed her shaking hand onto the table.

"Baby," Beauchamp soothed, reaching a hand across the table.

Ashley physically recoiled from his action, staring at the impending limb, as she once more sought safety behind the strength of her folded arms.

"Baby," he whispered again, before taking a huge gulp of gas from the hissing mask, "I have missed you. You know Daddy loves you right?"

I look of distained crossed her fine features; this was exactly why she didn't want to come, this bullshit.

"Angel, I made mistakes, but I'm still your Pa. Nothing can change that. I still love you, even if you can't forgive me."

"Forgive you?" Ashley spoke quietly and evenly. "You abducted, raped, tortured, killed and mutilated twenty-five women, then came home to Mom and me. You lied to us day in and day out for eighteen years of my life. I can't forgive that, never can I forgive you."

"I never lied, Hunny. I just protected you from the truth."

Ashley's laugh was uncharacteristically high pitched; "Now I have heard it all. Is that what you wanted me here for, to hear you pathetic excuses? If it is, then we are going as you are wasting your breath, and by the look of things you haven't got many left to spare."

Beauchamp's breath was laboured, the unusual amount of activity impacting on his normally sedate life. The added sting of her final words hit him like a fist to his tight chest.

"Why did you come here?" he finally asked.

"For the truth!" Ashley answered.


	5. Truth

**On The Last Night of The Year**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

**. . .**

An eerie silence spread across the battleship grey room, as Ashley locked eyes with her father for the first time since he had entered the room. It was at that moment Dave realised the inner strength the apparently fragile woman held. The man that had dominated her whole life was no longer a powerful force over her.

"I want the truth," she repeated, "I need to understand."

Beauchamp replaced the oxygen mask fully to his face with a shaky hand. No one missed the tremble of the action, followed by the deep inhalation of air. Each drag of breath he took being the only sound to echo around the room.

Dave's smile widened as he leant forward, trying to break the tension between the two, resting his forearms on the cold table. He would not let Charles Beauchamp play the sympathy card to back his daughter down.

"I don't think that's too much to ask before you face your true judgment, do you Charles?" an unmistakable sparkle in Dave's eyes shone as he spoke; now he was glad he had accompanied Ashley.

Beauchamp shifted his glare to Rossi. _There it is, _Dave thought, _that hint of the anger that he always reigned in, in front of his family. The psychopath he__'__d so carefully concealed, was now clear for them to see. _Leaning back again arms folded solidly across his chest, Dave had laid down the gauntlet, would Charles Beauchamp rise to the challenge?

As Charles swept his gaze back to his daughter his expression changed, as he reached a frail hand across the table to her. Immediately Ashley pulled back the thin arm she had rested once more on the smooth surface, with Dave sweeping in to block the action for good measure. Once more the men's eyes met; Dave's dark orbs boring through Beauchamp. A slight shake of Dave's head being the only necessary communication. Drawing his wrinkled hand back, Beauchamp snatched the mask off.

"I don't appreciate your interference," he shot at Dave with surprising venom.

"Well that's a shame, because Ash asked me to support her, and I plan on doing so," Dave smiled sweetly knowing it would grate on the other man's nerves far more than any protective burst of anger.

"Enough," Ashley snapped. "Dave is here as my friend, he is not leaving until I do. Which will be very soon, unless you agree to tell me why? Because the truth is the only reason I am here."

Charles nodded, as he took another set of deep breathes.

"I just want your forgiveness," he whispered hoarsely.

"How can I forgive what I don't understand? I have spent the years trying to understand what made you do the things you did," Ashley's voice was strong and calm, "I have tried so hard to move on, to create my own life away from you and your 'legacy', but I realise I have been chasing answers the whole time. I joined the FBI to understand people like you, and all I found out is that monsters like you are truly the stuff of nightmares, with no reckoning other then selfish egocentric need."

"Baby," his soft words barely audible, "I'm not a monster; I'm your father."

"You were my father, until I found out that we didn't know you," she shot back.

Dave placed a hand supportively on hers, aware of the tension in her body as she fought to remain in control.

"You abducted twenty-five women," she spoke calmly. "While you held them in extreme squalor you raped and tortured them. Their last hours of their lives were spent in absolute agony for your pleasure. Don't deny it as I have gained access to your files, I tried to find the answers for myself, buried in the information no-one wanted me to see. However I keep getting stuck on one thing, why did you do it?"

Charles Beauchamp's eyes narrowed as he processed what she had just said.

"You know why I did it, I enjoyed it," he answered flatly, as a neutral mask slid once more over his face, "More than I realised I would."

"More than being with Mom and me? I thought you loved us?" tears edged the rims of Ashley's crystal blue eyes, making them sparkle once more, but for the wrong reason.

Dave was acutely aware of how personal the questioning was getting, watching carefully, he waited for his cue to intercede.

"You know I loved you. I would have given you the world if I could." Charles paused to inhale the necessary oxygen. "Whatever you wanted you had. You can't deny that."

"I never have, you were overtly generous, and protective," Ashley's lips thinned as she schooled her face, determined to get through what she had come to say, "that I understand. I know you needed to protect me from people like you. I know guilt made you over compensate for what you had done. I even know that you tried to control it. Looking back now I realise the struggle you went through as I got older, as you went into a period of hiatus. I know you wanted to be 'normal', I remember how tired and exhausted you were all the time. As I read through the case files, and put the dates together I have begun to understand the fight you waged against your urges. Yet nothing tells me why you did it in the first place. You killed twenty-five women over ten years. The first one barely a month before I was born. What triggered you to do that?"

"I don't know," he sighed. "I had a late appointment at work that went badly, so I stopped for a drink on the way back to my hotel. She came up to me, started chatting. It was nice. One drink led to another, and you're a big girl now you can guess what happened."

Dave propped his head up on one hand, listening to the version of events that had never been previously exposed. Charles had never in interview given more than the bare minimum.

"The next morning, waking up beside her I felt sick. Your Mom was at home, and I had . . ." Charles paused to take in more air. "She asked for a ride home. I took her; she talked constantly, as if what we had done was perfectly normal. As I drove the more she annoyed me. I remember hitting her, knocking her head against the door. Finally she was quiet."

"Your reason for killing her was she talked too much?" Ashley said in disbelief.

Charles shrugged, once more hidden behind the clear plastic mask.

"I hit her because she talked too much, then I panicked. I found an old warehouse. Initially I was going to dump her, but seeing her laying unconscious on the floor, I knew I could do whatever I wanted," as his eyes misted over, his thin lips tugged into a smirk as he remembered the scene, "So I did!"

Ashley stared silently at her father, a sick feeling rising from the pit of her stomach.

"You're shocked," he smiled widely, sensing his power returning, "but I never killed a woman who didn't ask for it. I wasn't a hunter, they picked me. I just refined my location and methods, some things need privacy. But they all picked me!"

Ashley stood; she had heard enough, her father was no different to the others. Emily had been right when she had said that none of them had a reason. Ashley had hoped he would, but he didn't. As she turned away, she heard his voice.

"I guess I'm not forgiven then."

Walking away, she didn't dignify his comment with a reply. She had never hated him, and probably never would, but she was still embarrassed and ashamed to call him her father. That could never change.


	6. End of the Chapter

**On The Last Night of The Year**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.**

. . .

They entered her small apartment in the same silence that they had traveled back in. Dave knew Ashley needed time to process what had happened between her and her father.

Standing with his hands in his pockets, Dave watched as she went routinely through the daily actions of coming home. The keys on the kitchen counter top, coat in the cupboard, sneakers kicked off before she flopped onto the couch.

Dave stepped passed the hap-hazard footwear to perch himself on the edge of the coffee table in front of her. He took in her distance expression as she gazed past him and out of the window opposite.

"Ash, you ok? Do you want me to stay?" he asked softly, his brow furrowing as he noticed the sadness creep back into her light eyes.

"Please stay," she whispered.

"I'm right here Ash, right here," Dave said as he moved to sit beside her on the couch, putting a protective arm around her slender shoulders, pulling her to him.

Ashley snuggled into his strong arms, resting her head on his shoulder. They sat there without saying a word until the room darkened, physical company being the only thing that Ashley needed. Rising to switch a table top lamp on, she turned to Dave.

"Thank you."

"What for?" Dave smiled reassuringly. "I didn't do anything other then what I said. I told you I would be here and I will. This doesn't end today Ash, you know that as well as I do."

She nodded her agreement, before pushing off the couch to get a drink, for herself and Dave. Sat back down she passed the cheap tumbler to him, its contents far from cheap.

Dave smelt it appreciatively. "You have good taste."

She shrugged. "Can't think whose influence that could be?"

He smiled as he remembered the lazy nights that started with a beer and some gaming, and ended with a fine malt and vague ramblings of their inner thoughts.

"You did well today," he added, taking a sip from the glass, enjoying the burn as his swallowed the amber liquid.

"Really," Ashley spoke with a hint of surprise, "it doesn't feel like it."

"What did you expect?" Dave questioned, "You got more out of him then anyone who has tried before. You've seen the records, we caught him out pure dumb luck. He made a mistake after an eight year break. If Valerie Binks hadn't escaped and given us a description, we may never have caught him and he may well have started a second spate of killing, one he may not have been able to reign in."

"Great, so I got a better confession then you and Hotch, add it to my file, it may come in useful one day," her voice dripping in sarcasm, "Ashley Seaver, interviewer of the Redmond Ripper. Would you like me to make a formal record of what he said?"

"Ash that wasn't what I meant and you know it. What I'm trying to say is you got the truth, what you wanted. The reason you went to see him."

"No I didn't," she huffed, "I wanted a reason; I needed there to be an explanation for what he did to all of those women. All I got was some pathetic half excuse. There was no answer for my question."

"Is there any such thing as a reason to do what your father did? Was there anything he could have said today that would have excused his behavior?" Dave asked, hoping to help her make sense of the situation.

Ashley thought for a moment, she knew Dave was right, what excuse could there be for taking another's life, let alone repeatedly doing it in such a horrific way. She shook her head, letting the first of the tears she'd held in roll down her pale cheek.

"I guess I wanted to be proved wrong, that there was something I hadn't thought of; something that would make him my father again, instead of a serial killer," she sobbed.

Dave placed his glass down on the coffee table, reaching out his arms he pulled her tight. The rapid dampness of his shoulder combined with the racking sobs of her body let him know that she was finally releasing the tears she had held back for so long.

. . .

The early spring morning was bright yet cold. Glorious sunshine shone without any heat to its rays. The trees full of bright green leaves nestled next to fresh buds waiting to bloom. It was a truly beautiful day.

Ashley tried to focus on anything other than the dark wooden casket laid out in front of her. The phone call less than a week ago to inform her of her father's death had still been a shook, even though she knew to expect it.

Knowing he was dying made it none the easier. Standing beside his coffin, Ashley had to wonder if she had hated him she could have saved herself the pain of burying another parent. He had been right, a month or so ago, he was still her father, no matter what. It would be a lot easier to label him a monster and be done, but nothing was that simple. Emotions overrode her logic. He had raised her, loved her, provided for her and protected her. To her he had been the perfect parent, until that fateful day when his alter-ego had been revealed.

Dave hovered in the background, still keeping his promise to be there for her, no matter what. Silently stepping forward, his arm reaching effortlessly on her shoulders, as it did her head dipped to rest on his shoulder. His hand softly squeezed before he spoke.

"You okay Ash?"

"This is it, it is finally over."

Dave had to nod in agreement, there was definitely something final about the day, yet there was an element that nagged him still. Somehow he felt this was the end of the chapter, not the end of the book.

Ashley shrugged off his arm as she stepped forward to the deep grave, opening her bag Dave watched as several white envelopes fluttered into the hole.

"Are you sure?" Dave asked as her as he realised what she had just done.

"Yes," Ashley said with conviction, turning to face Dave. "In your own words: 'It's time to move on'. I am moving on, today is the start of my New Year."

Ashley walked away slowly, leaving behind all she owned of her past life. Dave stayed, staring and the blank space awaiting its occupant. The beginning of the end he thought to himself.

. . .

"Move on. It is just a chapter in the past but don't close the book just turn the page."

**Anon**


End file.
